


i fall in love with you every single day

by sarabritannia (prettygirlharry)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ???? - Freeform, A bit of sex, Canon, Canon Compliant, Fluff, I don't know what else to tag this as, Just for Laughs, M/M, Morning Sex, Toronto, Where We Are Tour, also fair warning there's not really a plot to this, it's just fluff fluff fluff, oh and i know no one's cared about nosh since like 2012 but there's a bit of that in here as well, sort of, well actually a lot of sex but it's sort of sidelined by banter and general happy coupledom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2159250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettygirlharry/pseuds/sarabritannia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis gives in easily, because he's always easy for Harry. Always has been, if he's being totally honest, even from the start. He sometimes thinks back to their firsts, especially at moments like this, when it feels like nothing could ever be against them, nothing could ever go wrong. It still feels like those first few months sometimes, back when they were young and giddy and naive, high off each other and totally unaware of what was coming for them.</i>
</p><p>toronto is good to harry and louis.</p><p>(maybe) part one of a canon compliant series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i fall in love with you every single day

**Author's Note:**

> this is so self indulgent, it's literally just 5K of canon with no real plot to it at all. harry and louis are in a really good place right now, and they seem super happy all the time and just generally like they're doing really fucking great, so that's what this is, it's just 5K of them being cute and happy and hanging out on tour and having lots of giggly, bantery sex in a posh hotel suite yaaay.. 
> 
> title from “thinking out loud” by ed sheeran.
> 
> oh also harry and louis are married in this, because im a total sap and i wanted them to be, so.......
> 
> follow me on tumblr! [sarabritannia](http://sarabritannia.tumblr.com)

It's so late that it's practically edging on early when Harry finally makes it into Toronto on Thursday night, slipping through the door of his hotel suite quietly and toeing off his boots before dropping his heavier-than-average overnight bag to the floor. He scrubs his hands over his face wearily, letting his eyes adjust to the dark for a moment before he begins to fumble his way towards the bed, stripping out of his clothes as he goes, leaving a trail of expensive, rumpled fabric in his wake.

He slides into the bed as silently as possible, trying not to wake the sleeping boy next to him, but Louis breathes in deep through his nose anyway and rolls over when the bed dips under Harry's weight, hands reaching out blindly to pet at the soft skin of Harry's stomach under the sheets. Harry settles back against the pillows, lets Louis crowd against him and rest his head against his heart. He smooths a hand down Louis' side and rubs gentle circles into the small of his back with the pads of his fingers and lets his eyes fall closed.

He's missed this, missed the easy closeness and comfort of having his favourite boy curled up against him. It's only been a bit over a week since they last saw each other, but that's still far too long (always too long), and Harry's weary and exhausted from the past few days of meetings and studio time, followed up by long nights alone in the lofty, airy LA house that never really manages to feel like home when he's there by himself.

Harry understands _why_ Louis couldn't come, obviously. He had to hang back and tend to his sisters and the twins while Jay and Dan were off on their honeymoon. It makes sense, but that doesn't mean that Harry liked it. If he's being honest with himself, he hated the separation just as much as he always does, and he found himself constantly wishing that he didn't have to be halfway across the world on his own, writing music with strangers and going out for posh drinks with industry executives when he could have been feeding babies and coaxing Fizzy into opening up about her Brand New Boyfriend. He wishes he could have just stayed in Doncaster with the family, filled the past few days with tea and lemonade instead of cosmos and martinis.

But he's home now, even though he's miles away from anything familiar, and he grins in spite of himself when Louis tilts his face up, silently begging for kisses. Harry obliges him easily, soft smile spreading across his face, and they stay there for a moment, lingering and content and happy to just be together again.

“Wh' time 's it?” Louis mumbles into his lips after a moment, his voice gravelly and sweet with sleep.

“Nearly half three,” Harry answers, reaching up to brush his thumb over the cut of Louis' cheekbone. “Sorry, my flight got delayed.”

Louis grumbles into his skin as he shifts in Harry's arms so that he's laying on top of him, bodies pressed together all down their fronts and legs slotted comfortably. “Yeah, Paul told me,” Louis mumbles, bending to nip lightly at the skin of Harry's neck with his sharp front teeth. “You could've rang.”

Harry lets his hands roam down Louis' body until they land over his bum, and he allows himself a cheeky grope before tilting his head back to give Louis more room to work the mark into his skin. “Sorry, it was all a bit rushed,” he says quietly, grunting under his breath when he feels Louis roll his hips down, mostly just testing to see if Harry's up for it. “Jeff was off for New York at the same time, and then my plane got stuck on the runway. Next time.”

Louis hums softly into his skin, his fingers trailing unspoken words down Harry's chest and over his hips, pausing to press lightly into the ferns tattooed over his bones. “How is Jeff?” Louis asks once he's satisfied with the mark on Harry's neck, pulling back to smile down at him with rumpled hair and shining eyes. “Don't think I asked last we talked.”

“You know,” Harry says noncommittally, pushing a hand back through Louis' hair. “The same. Talks a lot, never sleeps. How're the twins? The baby ones, I mean.”

Louis breathes a laugh through his nose as he stretches to reach for the little bottle of lube on the nightstand. “They sleep a lot, never talk,” he says with a grin and a wink that earns him a light cuff round the head for his trouble. “Ernie's still spitting up more'n I've ever seen, though. Ruined me new vest and all, the little bastard.”

“Lou, he's a _baby_ ,” Harry scolds, sounding scandalised even as he shifts his hips so Louis can prod two slick fingers into him, stretching. “You can't call a baby a bastard. That's like, against the law or something.”

“Right, which law's that then?” Louis asks, staring down at Harry with a raised eyebrow from where he's sitting back on his heels to add a third finger.

“Well, _I_ dunno,” Harry says, shifting a bit to get a better angle. “Baby law, probably. No, Lou, not there... _there_ , yeah, there.”

“Yeah, kinda figured I'd found it when you went all wonky and limp just now, Styles, thanks,” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes and reaching up to tug once at Harry's cock to make his point.

“Don't be a tit,” Harry says, but there's no heat behind it. “Just get in me already, will you? 'S been nearly two weeks.”

Louis barks out a laugh at that. “Romance really is dead, isn't it?” he says, even though he's already drawing his fingers out of Harry's body and slicking himself up. “What happened to 'I love you, oh handsome, dashing husband of mine'?”

“I love you,” Harry deadpans, his eyes glowing as he smiles. “And I'd _really_ love for you to get your cock in me. Now, please.”

“So demanding,” Louis tuts, pulling Harry's body into a better position with gentle hands on his hips. “You're lucky I'm so generous and wonderful.”

“ _And_ handsome and dashing?” Harry snorts. “Wow, I've really won the lottery, haven't I?”

Louis' still grinning down at him as he slides in easily, rocking forward until his hips are pressed tight against Harry's. “Now you're getting it,” he says, leaning down for another kiss as Harry lifts his legs to lock his ankles around Louis' back and hold him close. “I've missed you, by the way.”

“Mm, me too,” Harry agrees, raking his nails up Louis' back as Louis works his hips in small figure-eights, keeping himself in deep like he knows Harry likes sometimes when he's gone without for too long.

“And?”

Harry's laugh turns into a deep moan when Louis finds the angle he was looking for. “And I love you, and you're dashing and wonderful and everything else, and you're doing,  _Christ_ , you're doing a really good job right now,” he says in a rush. “Full marks.”

“Yeah?” Louis breathes, nosing at the warm space behind Harry's ear and gripping tight to Harry's hips to keep him from squirming too much. “No points lost for cheek, then?”

“Keep it up and you'll come out top of the class,” Harry tells him, making a good faith effort to sound serious but failing as his voice comes out breathy and strained. He sinks his teeth into Louis' shoulder, trying to silence the groan that threatens to rip from his chest when Louis draws himself out and snaps back in unexpectedly.

“Don't need to be quiet, baby,” Louis tells him, running his hands up Harry's sides and making him shiver. “Wanna hear you. 'S only Niall next door.”

“Please don't talk about Niall when you're fucking me,” Harry begs around another groan, his pupils blown wide in the darkened room.

“If I had a fiver for every time I heard that,” Louis says wistfully, and Harry stretches to swat him on the bum.

“Oi, who else have you heard that from?” he asks petulantly.

Louis shakes his head in mock exasperation and bends to kiss Harry again, licks into his mouth until Harry's loose and pliant and giggly underneath his hands, just how Louis likes him best. They're quiet after that, banter dying down in favour of soft groans, private little whispers of  _love you_ and  _missed you so much_ pressed into each other's mouths and drawn across their skin like so many unwritten tattoos, just as permanent and unfading.

++

Louis wakes next morning with a groan and a shiver, his hands moving automatically to cup the back of Harry's head, fingers threading through his curls and pulling at his ears affectionately. He cracks his eyes open and stares blearily down at the lump under the sheets that's moving slightly as Harry bobs his head, and Louis' toes curl into the mattress as he reaches for his glasses on the bedside table. He blinks sleep from his eyes and pushes the covers back to find Harry crouched between his legs, eyes wide and sparkling and trained on Louis' face. Louis brushes some of Harry's long hair from his face (he has so much of it now) and pushes his thumb into one of Harry's dimples, feeling himself move inside his boy's mouth and quirking a little smile when Harry reaches up to tug playfully at his balls.

Harry looks beautiful like this, Louis thinks. Well, he looks beautiful basically all the time, but the way the soft morning light spills in from the window and falls across his face, cheeks hollowed around Louis, his lips bright red and just this side of obscene, hair a sleep-rumpled riot around his head, his eyelashes long and impossibly dark, fluttering as he breaks eye contact and looks down to focus his attention on bringing Louis off... there's literally nothing in the world that Louis would rather wake up to.

He comes down Harry's throat with a sharp groan not a minute later, and Harry backs off, smiling pleasantly and cracking his jaw, reaching up with his thumb to catch a stray dribble of Louis' come at the corner of his mouth and lick it off.

“Fucking hell,” Louis swears under his breath by way of morning greeting, his brain still basically made of jelly. “What did I ever do to you?”

Harry hums thoughtfully as he slides back up Louis' body to lay across his chest comfortably, nudging his head into Louis hand like an oversized cat. “Hypnotised me with your manly good looks and rugged, charming wit,” Harry tells him matter-of-factly. “I was far too young. Never stood a chance.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Louis sighs, running a hand down Harry's back gently and letting his eyes fall closed, breathing in the smell of him. He's missed having his boy around. “I should really come with a disclaimer or something.”

“Louis Tomlinson: Dick Hypnotist,” Harry says, and Louis rolls his eyes even as he smiles indulgently. “Don't I get a title too?”

“Harry Styles, the cocksucking angel,” Louis answers immediately, cracking his eyes open so he can look at Harry properly. That came out a lot more soppy and love-sick than he meant for it to, but he can't make himself be properly embarrassed. He's never embarrassed when it comes to Harry. He thumbs over Harry's swollen bottom lip carefully, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “I could write a thesis on your mouth, probably.”

Harry's smile widens at his tone and at the feel of Louis' fingers scratching through his hair, and his eyes go soft and impossibly fond. “Oh, just kiss me already, you swot,” Harry says, shaking his head.

Louis gives in easily, because he's always easy for Harry. Always has been, if he's being totally honest, even from the start. He sometimes thinks back to their firsts, especially at moments like this, when it feels like nothing could ever be against them, nothing could ever go wrong. It still feels like those first few months sometimes, back when they were young and giddy and naive, high off each other and totally unaware of what was coming for them.

Even now, sat in this posh high rise hotel suite in a completely foreign country, he can still remember what Harry's tongue felt like in his mouth the first time they kissed under the hot Spanish sun and how Harry's skin felt under his hands the first time they had sex, warm and trembling and soft, nervous and quiet in a spare bedroom of the X Factor house not two weeks after they moved in. Harry wasn't Louis' first, but he's the only one who's ever mattered.

(Louis  _was_ Harry's first. He was Harry's first everything, and that thought had terrified Louis down to his bones when they'd started out. It doesn't scare him anymore, of course. Now, it satisfies the small possessive streak that runs through him, makes him dizzy when he thinks about the fact that he's the only one who's ever touched his husband like this, the only one who's ever seen him on his knees, the only one who's ever known what his face looks like when he comes.)

“You've gone scruffy again,” Harry mumbles into his lips after a moment, bringing a hand up to rub at the beard that's grown in since Louis' mum's wedding.

“Should I shave?” Louis asks, a smile in his voice, because he knows Harry's answer before he even asks the question.

Sure enough, Harry immediately jerks back with a look of outrage on his face, staring down at Louis and shaking his head. “ _No_ ,” Harry says emphatically. “No, I love your beard. 'S scratchy and makes you look older and manly. With that  _and_ the glasses, you're lucky I've not given in to my baser instincts yet.”

“Oh, and waking me up by swallowing my cock wasn't one of your 'baser instincts'?” Louis asks, laughing in spite of himself as Harry sits back so he's straddling Louis' hips and glaring down at him.

Harry splutters indignantly for a moment before he's interrupted by a sharp knock on their door, and he goes toppling sideways onto the mattress as Louis shoves him off so he can slide out of the bed and pull on pants. Harry picks his head up from where it's buried in a cloud of fluffy white comforter, shamelessly eyeing the curve of Louis' bum as he bends over.

“Oi, mate!” Harry calls after him as he starts towards the door, and when Louis turns around, Harry's staring at him with a wide, smug-looking grin on his face. “Nice arse.”

“ _Please_ ,” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning to walk the rest of the way to the door, swaying his hips deliberately as he goes. “You can't afford me.”

Harry lets out a loud laugh, the sort that he usually muffles with his hand when he's in public, and drags himself out of bed as he hears Louis flipping the lock on the door to their suite. It's early still, not even half ten yet, and they don't need to be at the stadium for soundcheck for another few hours at least, but he feels like he should probably get up and at least make something of an effort. He stumbles his way into the loo, unsteady on his feet as he steps into a pair of Louis' pants as he goes. He hears muffled voices coming from the front of their suite as he putters around the bedroom brushing his teeth, wondering if he should dig through the suitcase Louis brought for him from London to see what he's got to work with and figure out if he's going to need to go shopping for the next few weeks, maybe ring Lou to see if she wants to come along.

“Babe,” Louis calls from the other room. “Breakfast. And Niall's here as well.”

Harry ducks into the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste and rinse his mouth before wandering into the main room of their suite, where he finds Niall slumped on their couch with his feet propped up on the table and mobile held in front of his face, typing something with intense focus. Without glancing up from his phone, he holds out a fist for Harry to bump as he passes.

“Hey, bro,” Harry says easily. “How was the flight?”

“Hang on, I'm tweeting,” Niall says distractedly, pausing to reread what he's written before he hits send. He looks up to Harry with a bright smile once he's pocketed his mobile. “It was good, yeah. Went to visit my mum after the wedding, got in from Dublin last night. Heard yours was late in from LA.”

Harry groans, stretching his arms over his head until his back cracks with a sharp  _pop pop pop_ , and he gratefully accepts the mug of tea that Louis passes him wordlessly. “Yeah, didn't get in till nearly half three,” he says after taking a swig of his tea. “And then we didn't sleep till almost five. I'm proper knackered.”

“Well, you better be on tonight,” Niall says cheerfully, bouncing his leg where it's still propped on the table. “Back to it, eh?”

“You gonna run the stadium today, Nialler?” Louis asks as Harry passes him a slice of toast from the breakfast cart. He takes a bite and stretches on his toes to kiss Harry's dimple before walking over to kick his suitcase open and rummage around for clothes. “Thought about giving it a go. Mind you, I might just steal a golf cart and go off on a joyride instead.”

“I'm up for either, to be honest,” Niall shrugs. “Could do with a workout, though.”

“No, don't wear those, I got you a new pair of trackies the other day,” Harry says around a mouthful of food as he watches Louis pulling a pair of worn shorts out of his case from where he's plopped himself down next to Niall with the bowl of fruit salad in his lap. “They're in my giant bag thing by the door. Niall, I'll go for a run with you if you want. I need to wake m'self up anyway.”

“Anyone heard from Zayn yet? I think he stayed in London last night,” Louis says, sticking his head up from where he's digging through Harry's oversized shoulder bag. “Should be here by now, though.”

“I think his flight got in like a half hour ago, but he's not made it to the hotel yet,” Niall shrugs, ignoring Harry's offended squawk when he leans over to steal a slice of mango from the dish with his fingers and accidentally drops it on Harry's bare stomach. “Dan got a text from him around then, I think. Oh, and Liam's in from France, by the way. Sophia's coming out with... well, with Lottie in a few days. New York and all that, you know.”

Harry and Louis exchange a significant look as Niall coughs awkwardly. They'd both gotten the news that Eleanor would be showing up in New York nearly a week ago, and they've already had their traditional knock-down drag-out fight over the matter via a very stressful Face Time session a couple days ago. Harry had turned his mobile off wholesale and buried it in the bottom of his sock drawer when that particular call had ended (though, of course, he'd fished it out and called Louis back to apologise not two hours later), so it's not as though the wound is still raw or anything, but it's just...

Well, Eleanor's presence is basically a slap in the face to Harry whenever she's around, no matter how involved or not involved she is in whatever's going on. He doesn't like her, basically, and Louis knows that. He  _knows_ , but sometimes, as he's explained to Harry more than enough times, these things can't be avoided. They're tenuous on the matter right now, but Louis put up enough of a fight with their managers this time that he's at least not going to have to spend too much time with her while she's in town. Still, though.

“Right, about that run,” Niall says abruptly, breaking the tense silence that's fallen over the room.

“Yeah, I should get dressed,” Harry says, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Lou, make sure you wear those trackies today, alright?”

Louis nods absently, clutching the material tight in his hands. It isn't until Harry's nearly rounded the corner to the bedroom that Louis calls out after him, glancing quickly towards Niall before speaking. “Hey, H?” he asks, and Harry pauses, turns to look back at him and leans against the doorframe. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry says, his face breaking into a soft smile. They're alright, just as always. Somehow, they're alright. “Get dressed, yeah? We can all head over to the stadium together.”

++

Harry's like some sort of camp fantasy onstage later that night. Like, he's always a  _bit_ flamboyant when the stage lights are lit up, but tonight, Louis can't really decide if he deserves a fucking medal for packing that sheer lacy number that Harry calls a shirt or if he should be kicking himself because it's just so damn distracting. Between the shirt and him flouncing down the runway with his hips and all his tattoos on full display, Louis' practically dizzy when they finally come offstage.

He blows past all the people angling to congratulate him for a show well done and makes a beeline for Harry, grabs him by the wrist and tugs him into the big, overly-lit dressing room before spinning around to pin him against the wall.

“God, you looked so fucking good out there tonight,” Louis tells him, running his hands down Harry's sides and letting them slide up under the hem of his shirt, splaying his fingers out across Harry's tattoos and watching his stomach move through the thin material. “Couldn't hardly keep my eyes off you.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks with a grin, grabbing Louis by the bum with both hands and pulling him closer so their hips are pressed together. “So you think I'm fit? Want to touch my hair and have my babies and be the brand new Mrs Styles?”

“Oh, shut up,” Louis laughs, reaching up to hook Harry around the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

It goes from giggly and light to frantic and sloppy much quicker than Louis expects it to. Their tongues slide together hot and dirty, and Louis groans into Harry's mouth when Harry rolls their hips together hard, hands squeezing at his arse as he towers over him. Before Louis knows what's happening, his back's against the wall and his legs are wrapped around Harry's waist, left breathless with his head spinning. Harry breaks their kiss in favour of mouthing his way down Louis' neck, biting hard at his skin and collarbones as Louis gasps and arches into it, his vision gone wonky and his heart banging out a mad rhythm in his chest. It's not often that Harry decides he wants to take control like this, but it always knocks Louis absolutely sideways when it happens.

“So did I pull you from the crowd, or are you my groupie tonight?” Harry mumbles into his neck, his voice gone low and husky.

“ _God_ ,” Louis groans, simultaneously completely weirded out and ridiculously fucking turned on by Harry's fond penchant for role play. Harry rolls his hips up again, grinding their cocks together through their jeans, and Louis' whole body feels like it's on fire. “Fuck, I'm whoever you want me to be.”

“What I _want_ is to bend you over that couch and fuck you so hard you – “ Harry's saying when the dressing room door opens and people start to spill in (the boys, the band, a few of their handlers), all chattering excitedly, happy after a great restart to the tour.

“Oi, save it for the bedroom!” Liam calls, cutting Harry off by tossing his sweaty T shirt at them. “No one wants to hear that. _Jesus._ ”

“Seriously, go take a cold shower or something,” Niall adds with a laugh as Harry's fist connects with the wall in frustration. He lets his head fall forward until his face is buried in Louis' neck. “Separately.”

“What are you lot then, professional cock blocks?” Louis snaps, and Harry grunts into the skin of his neck in agreement.

“No, we've just all walked in on you two enough times that we've finally decided to stand up for ourselves,” Zayn tells them, pulling his mobile from his pocket to check his messages. “This is one of those things that we'd rather you didn't share with the class.”

“Married people aren't even meant to have sex, anyway,” Niall says, shaking his head as Louis' legs fall from around Harry's waist.

“Hey, at least they're both getting laid tonight,” Josh comments, towelling off his hair as he picks his way through the room over to his bag. Louis can feel Harry's deep, shaky breaths shuddering across his skin, and he skims a calming hand down his back. “That's more'n you can say, Niall.”

“Why, you offering?” Niall asks, making exaggerated kissing noises at Josh from across the room. Harry laughs under his breath, but Louis knows his voice well enough to know that it's still a bit strained and forced, and he runs his hand back through Harry's sweaty curls, presses his lips to his temple.

“Hey, you alright?” Louis asks him in an undertone as the conversation moves on around them from group mockery of Harry and Louis' sex life to questions about takeaway menus and what sounds good for dinner.

“Yeah, 'm fine,” Harry says, taking another deep breath, and Louis smiles in relief when Harry lets out a helpless little giggle. He clears his throat and lifts his head, taking a step away from Louis so they're not pressed quite so close together. “Just trying really hard to think of like, sad kittens or my gran or something right now.”

“You could try thinking about Niall and Josh shagging,” Louis laughs as he slips out of Harry's hold and starts to pull his shirt over his head to change into something more comfortable for the ride back to the hotel. “That might help take the edge off.”

“That is twice in the last twenty four hours that you've brought up Niall during sex,” Harry tells him as he turns to follow. “Is there something I should know about?”

“You talk about Niall during sex?” Liam asks, pulling a face. “You guys are weirder than I thought you were.”

“Hey, Niall, I think you might have a couple takers over here if Josh doesn't put out,” Sandy calls across the room.

“I'm a bit offended, actually,” Zayn comments mildly. “Why Niall and not me, eh?”

“Because Harry actually fancies you, Zayn, and I'm not bringing that sort of drama into my sex life,” Louis says patronisingly, and Harry snorts out a laugh as he tosses his towel in the general direction of the bin across the room (missing it, of course, by about thirty feet). “He flirts with you enough as is.”

“Well I, for one, am glad not to be a part of Harry and Louis' weird kinky sex play,” Liam says matter of factly, dropping himself into one of the chairs on the edge of the room and pulling out his mobile. “Had quite enough of that when we were all sharing busses every night.”

“Hey,” Harry says with a frown, stretching the word out slowly. “We're not _weird_. Just... adventurous.”

“See, you _say_ adventurous, but all I hear is a stuffed bear in bondage gear propped up onstage every night,” Josh says, pointing an accusatory drumstick at Harry from his seat in the corner.

“Can I just say that this is literally the gayest fucking conversation that I've ever been a part of?” Louis asks, looking up from where he's pulling his Nike sweats back on in place of his tight jeans. “And that's saying something.”

“Gayer than Magaluf?” Harry asks him teasingly with a knowing grin.

“Well...” Louis says, pausing for a moment. “Right, okay, not gayer than Magaluf, but still. _Pretty_ gay.”

“Why, what happened in Magaluf?” Liam asks curiously.

“Nothing,” Louis says quickly, just as Harry says, “Foam party.”

“Hush, Harold, you weren't even there,” Louis tells him primly, reaching over to mush Harry's lips together with his free hand as he sprays on deodorant. “You don't know what went on.”

Harry fidgets away from his fingers to pull his worn Harley shirt back on over his head. “I know I spent about three days hoovering glitter out of the carpets after you and Stan got home,” he says, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

“How did we get back on this topic again?” Louis asks, clearing his throat. “What happened to talking about food? I'm gettin' hungry, me.”

Everyone laughs, and the conversation eventually moves back to plans for the night. Harry waits until everyone's distracted again before he catches Louis' eye and shoots him his dimpliest grin, the one that could probably make anyone within a ten block radius go weak in the knees, not to mention the boy who's already been arse over tit in love with him for the last four years.

_Later,_ Harry mouths to him with a wink, and Louis feels his stomach flip as something rockets through him, setting his nerves on end. He swallows hard and nods, turning back to his bag just so he doesn't have to stare Harry down anymore. Looking him in the eye, watching him laugh and move and, hell, even fucking  _breathe_ ... it all makes it so much harder for Louis to keep himself in check, even in this big room full of their friends. It's a bit ridiculous, really, how stupidly gone Louis is for this giant, overgrown idiot with huge fluffy hair and absurdly good abs. It shouldn't feel like this anymore, probably, that light-headed buzz that comes when he touches Harry's skin or catches his eye. That feeling should have worn off by now, after all these years, but it just  _hasn't_ . Honestly, Louis doesn't know if it ever will, but he thinks he might just be okay with that.

 


End file.
